


In your dreams

by SubmissiveKylo (prancing_queen)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-23
Updated: 2013-09-23
Packaged: 2017-12-27 10:33:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/977729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prancing_queen/pseuds/SubmissiveKylo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel sits with Dean as he sleeps...</p>
            </blockquote>





	In your dreams

Title: In your dreams

Rating: G/U  
Warnings: None  
Comments: Feel free  
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural but that'd be cool

 Authors notes:  I don't actually know?? I dived face first into the Supernatural fandom and yeah. This is my creative writing coursework so I decided I'd share it here. The maximum word limit is 820 which is why it's so short.

 

 

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Mortal life was something altogether foreign to Cas. From their often rash and impulsive natures, to their inability to keep simple things such as emotions in check. He despised having to wander the Earth in a human form, it left him irritable, which, in turn, only served to make him more irritable. Damn these emotions.

His eyes mapped the path of the raindrops as they coursed down the darkened window, occasionally his attention grabbed inexplicably by the dark haired mortal beside him. The concept of ‘personal space’ was a triviality he and his brothers did not concern themselves with. The idea foreign and at the same time somehow interesting yet boring.

Humans.

But this particular human was of great interest anyway. Dean Winchester. An unusual name, but one that oddly fit his somewhat rugged appearance. The Big Man had instructed his upbringing from Hell, plus Castiel’s protection of him. So he remained close, but not too close. Not that Dean would see it that way, or that Castiel would care, but he held himself back.

The rain had gotten worse, the droplets lashing against the window panes with such force that the glass rattled in its frame. As if sensing the dramatic shift in weather, Dean instinctively pulled the thin sheets a little closer to himself. He’d fallen asleep still fully clothed, all except his trademark leather jacket which was slung over the back of the chair, his thick soled boots thrown haphazardly next to the bed.

As he watched Dean’s chest rythmically rise and fall, he unconsciously moved closer to the others’ side, Dean’s warm breath skittering across his skin. The bitter tang of whiskey hung like a cloud around him and Cas couldn’t help but feel a twinge of unnecessary guilt. Dean’s dark eyebrows were knit in perpetual anxiety, dark shadows hanging heavily beneath his eyes which moved restlessly beneath closed lids.

Nightmares.

Nothing new there then. After all he’d been through it was unsurprising. Cas reached his hand forward and smoothed his fingers over Dean’s now sweating brow, his heart heavy as the images rushed into his mind.

The bitter, acrid stink of sulphur and blood. The scent of burnt flesh, and Dean. Dean on the rack. Dean being flogged, his back a scarlet waterfall. Dean strapped down as various demons tore at his flesh with knives and claws and teeth. He could feel the mortal’s agony as if it were his own and he wanted nothing more than to turn back time and have rescued Dean the moment he was cast down, but, he knew destiny didn’t work that way.

He shouldn’t feel so guilty. It was a new, foreign feeling and was completely unwelcome. Castiel had done all he could and Dean was strong. Time ran more slowly in hell than on Earth. By Earth’s standards, he had been down four months. In hell, it’d been fourty years. It took thirty of these years for him to break, and Cas marvelled at this, which was exactly the reason that when the Lord had ordered his upbringing, Cas’d been the first to volunteer.

Gripping the boy tight and engulfing them both in a holy fire so bright that even Uriel had to shield his eyes

Dean. His Dean.

With the soul of a lion and the heart of a dove.  
Pure, innocent and completely precious.

Dean’s eyes rolled back into his skull in a mixture of terror and agony, a low groan leaving his lips as he curled himself into a tight ball, much like a python when threatened. Cas’ hands fluttered over Dean’s face before coming to rest on his cheeks, the pads of his thumbs rubbing gentle, soothing circles on his cheekbones.

It took several long minutes for Dean to respond to Cas’ gentle touch, his breathing evening out and his body relaxing as the nightmare faded, the angel letting out a breath he hadn’t even been aware he was holding as Dean turned his face into Cas’ palm.

His fingers curled reflexively and he frowned slightly as Dean’s breath skittered down his wrist.  
Curious things, humans.  
But always was the work of God, and Castiel knewe better than to question his Lord’s work.

The warm breath’s faltered slightly, Dean’s lashes fluttering as he roused himself from sleep.  
His eyes were dark and wild with terror as the nightmare flashed into his head, the tension snapping into his body instantaneously.

Castiel had disappeared, quick as a flash, instead lounging almost nonchalantly on the other side of the double bed, emerald eyes meeting ocean blue as Castiel allowed a cold smirk to flit across his lips, “What were you dreaming about, Dean?” He questioned, his tone mocking, as at first bewilderment and then hurt flashed into the hunter’s eyes.

He’d push the mortal away.  
It was safer that way.  
He’d protect his Dean.


End file.
